Don't Get Involved

Chapter Seven

Dylan's POV

Should I walk over there already? She hasn't responded to be my text message and its been around 10 minutes.

I decide to start my way over. It's only a five minute walk, I live a street over.

Wait, she cuts herself Dylan. Maybe you should hurry up...

My thoughts get the best of me and I run the rest of the way, the door's locked. "Quinn! Open up!" I say panicked, she doesn't come to the door.

"Please Quinn open the door! Okay, but your gonna need a new door..." I say, kicking the door in.

Still no answer. She's not in the living room. She's not in the kitchen.

"Quinn!" None of the lights are on. Except one.

"The door better not be locked..." I mumble to myself. I open her bedroom door to find the most awful scenario had gone down. I struggle to pull my phone out of my back pocket, hurrying up with the 911 call.

The blood from the deep gash on her arm pools around her. She's bleeding to death...

I sit by her. Attempting to pick her up and out the door so the paramedics don't take to long. She's actually really light.

Of course she is, you didn't make her eat anything for the last month.

I shut my thoughts up. It was easy for me, but why had her thoughts gotten to her so easily?

The ambulance is taking to long. She's in my arms, I picked her up bridal style (quick A/N, why the heck is it called bridal style? Barely anyone does that at weddings...)

The paramedics didn't get here for the next five minutes. She could be dead. I didn't even check her pulse, I am such a idiot.

I find the spot on her neck. Faint, but there.

But its moving so slow

*neighbors POV*
Geez, teenagers. First there's banging on the door next to my apartment, and now there's a ambulance out front? That kid probably did something, huh? I think her name was Quinn. Idiotic girl for letting a guy into her house.

Back in my day, we could talk to stranger s. But know there's murderers, like, everywhere. I borrowed sugar from next door once. Well, sorta. I tried. She literally said, "I'm sorry, I don't buy sugar." She was wearing a t shirt with her arms behind her back.

Eh, she'll probably move out soon, hopefully. My dog Fluffy (yes, its a awesome old lady name I know) starts barking because of all the ruckus she's making.
Teenagers *shudders*

Dylan's POV
"Sir, we have to ask you some questions." The doctor had just came out of Quinn's room. If I said anything, I would break down. I'm not such a fan of that, so I won't be 'answering any questions' anytime soon.

"When did you find her? She's in a very bad condition, and if we knew when you found her we would know how much the bill would cost." Really. My girlf-um... Best friend just almost died and I don't care about the stupid bill. "When can I see her? I don't care about the damn hospital bill. I just want to know if she's okay," I finally look him in the eye. "We don't know. We could know, if you answered our questions."

He was cold. Not temperature wise, but his personality. It sounded as if he didn't want to be here, that he could care less of the outcome. I want a new doctor.

  "I walked in on her about two hours ago. (It took a hour and a half of waiting in the waiting room.) She was just lying on the floor, a knife next to her." I was surprised I didn't stumble on my words, because I was trembling. Shaking in my chair

"Let's just say, she has a 35% chance of surviving. I'm sorry to say, but I think you got there to late."

His fake smile is to handle. I put my hands at my sides, my fists clenched. Don't hit him Dylan. She'll be fine.

"When can I see her?" "Are you a family member?" Do I lie? I'd get to see her sooner...but do I want to see her in that condition? She looked awful when I walked in. "No." "Then you will wait until she wakes up. Which, I can't promise."

He walks away after that. I leave. I just want to cry into a pillow. If she was here she'd tell me to move on. She'd tell me that I'd get over her.

Yet you won't